


Bright as Moonlight

by Ramasi



Series: Fire-Breathing [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Established Relationship, M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramasi/pseuds/Ramasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to 4x03; maybe it'd be easier separating the two completely, the servant Arthur loves and trusts, and the sorcerer who wants magic brought back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright as Moonlight

His whole being is engulfed in warmth; hot, wet, with the faintest threat of teeth, grazing, Arthur's lips working up and down, Arthur's throat pushing against the tip of his cock, not yet swallowing. He can feel the sensation travel up his body in fibrils and yet stay completely focused, like magic burning beneath his skin and gathering in his hand, only better, more –

He gasps as Arthur goes lower. His king is kneeling above him on the bed, still dressed in ceremonial clothes minus the cape, crown still in place. His eyes are downcast; only his throat seems to move, and Merlin can feel every relaxing and tightening.

He has dreamt of this moment. Awake and asleep, through the years of fear and obscurity, when he listened to the dragon before he knew Arthur himself, when he laid down his life for Arthur, when he saved _Uther's_ to preserve Arthur's purity; since day one, he's dreamt of this.

Maybe not _quite_ like that. He didn't expect the bed, and the newly crowned king, all in red, sucking his cock, slow and dedicated. But he's here for _this_ , for Arthur's kingship, his greatness, for the day when Camelot and Albion will turn into something bright and beautiful, he's been ready to die for this, over and over, and lie for it, and kill, and now everything seems broken and lost and –

And this hasn't been true for quite a while. Shivers run up his spine as Arthur eases back, tongue rubbing insistently; Merlin is bucking up before he can stop himself; and still Arthur doesn't glance up, just lifts a hand to his hip to push him back down.

He hasn't been here for the prince, the future king, their destiny, for a long time. He's here for Arthur. He's been ready to die for Arthur. He thought that was one and the same, but now that he's cut in two so neatly, now that Arthur spoke such hatred at Dragoon and all magic users and called _him_ – for the first time – his friend, almost in one breath, he's not so sure anymore. It seems like they are closer and farther apart than ever, and there is a small painful part of Merlin that wishes he could give up the hated part of himself and be only what Arthur loves.

The thought gathers in his mind as orgasm draws nearer, constricting, and screaming for release from it. Arthur's throat around him, deeper than ever, is like a heavenly prison, and he can't hold still now, even with both of Arthur's hands holding him down, he trashes, lifts himself up, and he can feel his vision go white!...

Then the image of Arthur is very clear, blue eyes, golden crown, Pendragon-red clothes; his lips are very pink and puffy, his chin high. He's looking at him now.

"Uhm," Merlin says, because he feels something is expected of him; the aftermath is still always a bit awkward, especially if they haven't both finished; which brings him to... "Do you want me to...?"

"No," Arthur says curtly, but the absent way in which he says it tells Merlin the annoyance is not directed at him. There's a pause. Arthur looks vaguely unsure. "Thanks, though."

Merlin gives no answer and doesn't move when Arthur stands up to get undressed. It frightens him how easy this seems, to give in to this, to ease into this and nothing more, watch magic users like himself die and stand behind Arthur, washing his shirts and saving his life and sharing secret smiles and blowjobs and honest words of trust. Was there ever anything more? It feels like it was another person who, a mere day ago, demanded that Arthur overthrow his father's laws. Maybe it's easier that way. Let Dragoon be the champion of justice and change, for himself and for others, let Merlin be none but Merlin, secret and loved...

He stands up.

"Merlin?"

Arthur turns as Merlin staggers to his feet, feeling a little wobbly; he searches the floor for his discarded clothes.

"I just need to – I'll be right back," Merlin mutters even as he gets dressed; he can see Arthur give him a deeply concerned and exasperated frown, but he ignores it and hurries on. Outside, he walks down two corridors at random before he stops, leaning his forehead against the cold stone wall. A few feet away, a high window is drawn on the floor in silvery light; somewhere far away, he can her the footfall of a patrol. Otherwise, everything is still.

He couldn't live like this. _Because_ he loves Arthur, he can't live like this. When it was Uther's shadow loaming between them he could make excuses, Arthur was bound to his king, was loyal, would not betray... But now he can blame Uther's still existing shadow all he wants, it is Arthur's own choice to build a wall between them. And if Arthur continues his father's work, if Arthur threatens, without knowing it, his own life every day, he doesn't know how to live with this. He has to believe it won't stay that way; he needs to still hope in the future, Arthur will understand, Arthur will change, will know _him_ for who he truly is...

But that future looks very far away now.

At last, he makes his way back to Arthur's chambers. The prince – the king – is sitting cross legged above the covers in his night-clothes, and his eyes light up when he sees him. The crown is resting on a chair, shining faintly in the moonlight.

"There you are."

Arthur sounds relieved. Merlin gives a nod and quickly slips under the covers; Arthur follows suit. They lie next to each other for a while like that, without touching, until at last Merlin can't help but raise a hand to Arthur's face, carefully tracing down his cheek. Would he do it? Give the order, draw the sword at him himself? The question has always been in the back of his mind, but now it burns more than ever...

"What?" Arthur says after a moment; he probably means the way Merlin's staring at him, not the hand.

"You're the king."

"I _know_ , Merlin."

Merlin lets his hand sink, and Arthur moves closer in a brusque movement, knees pushing against his.

"You'll be a great king," Merlin murmurs; he puts all his faith into these words.

"Thanks for your confidence," Arthur says, echoing an old conversation; the look in his eyes, as Merlin can see in the faint moonlight, is open and wondering, the way it sometimes gets when Merlin wonders if Arthur has figured out his secret ages ago, and is just waiting for him to tell; it'd be embarrassing; but it's a nice fantasy.

He ought to be answering something insulting, but he can't bring himself to. He needs this to be true so bad. He needs Arthur to be the king he's waited for all this time. Because he knows he won't have the force to leave behind his destiny (his love) even if he isn't.


End file.
